


Healing Blood

by ephemeralchemy



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Celestial Beings AU, Fluff, M/M, Malec, Moon, Star - Freeform, Symbolization, jace wayland - Freeform, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralchemy/pseuds/ephemeralchemy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec symbolizes the moon -- cold, lonely, and broken.</p><p>Magnus symbolizes the star -- bright, flamboyant, and broken.</p><p>Two wounded souls wandering blindly in the darkness find light within each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, and I'm a little nervous to put it out here, but I've had this idea sitting in my head for some time and I didn't want it to get any dustier. :c
> 
> It's a teeny little AU, but it plays a lot on symbolism.
> 
> (Jace symbolizes the sun, btw)
> 
> Comments would mean so so much to me. Thanks loves.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> \--

He was the moon.

The forgotten, the cold, the lonely. He was the devastatingly beautiful picture of broken glass, its jagged edges stained red with the blood of his own trembling hands. His hazy silhouette dissipated into space like a flowering droplet of black ink. His raven black hair, a tousled crown upon his head, struck a stark contrast with his milky skin. He held his head in shame, his strong shoulders stooped forward. His jaw cut sharply through the darkness, his eyelashes fleetingly kissed his high cheekbones. His eyes were cast downward, wild and searching but hollow, set deep into his youthful face. Shadows caressed his body, curling around the swells of his arms, enveloping his pale torso, and pooling in the deep crevices of his collarbones. Wisps of ash and tendrils of grey smoke were the only remains of a cruelly extinguished fire, clinging and twisting around his quivering fingertips. The shadows were his most faithful friends, coaxing and beckoning him into the lulling comfort of the darkness. Like the moon, a part of him was always hidden, unknown to both himself and the others. One could only wonder the secrets swept behind him, yet no one cared to explore. Like the moon, he was invisible in the blue sky as the sun reigned the heavens. Like the moon, he felt he only shined at night because he reflected the light of the sun. But like the moon, he didn't know he stood as an luminous beacon of hope in the blackness of the sky - the very ancient celestial being at the center of the whispered prayers falling frantically from desperate lips. He was a broken angel, standing in the midst of the debris of his own destruction. His beautiful white-feathered wings were spread, singed with the fire of the setting sun, yearning for a taste of the heavens but unable to fly.

He was a star.

The burning, the living, the robust. The sliver of light in the darkness of the night. He was always looked upon with admiring eyes and hitched breaths. He was shameless and flaunted his light as the crackling embers ignited his soul with intense, unbridled passion. The shadows parted for him hurriedly, in haste to escape his blinding brightness. He held his head high in an outward show of pride, his silky black hair framing the slope of his sharp, angular cheekbones. His shoulders were effortlessly thrown back; his eyes beheld a mischievous glint. But he was broken. He was the object of awe, the center of undivided attention, yet like the moon, no one cared to explore beneath his surface. His painful beauty and his searing light burned the fingertips of those who dared to come close, as he was cautious and familiar with the pain in his past of letting someone in. He was an angel that had flown too high, the taste of the heavens he had yearned for had cruelly burned him, sending him tumbling towards the clutches of the earth with flaming, charred white wings. He drove the probing eyes of the outside away through his intimidating, flamboyant nature and a facade of apathy as he masked his aching soul, while the moon did so by isolating and caging himself silently. Such incompatible differences, but they were the same in that they shined beautifully, yet were internally starved of light, overcome with the pain that came as a consequence of selflessness. The moon felt unworthy of his light, while the star believed it was the only thing that deemed him worthy of living. The moon masked his wounds with his silence, the star with his apathy. But both were guarded, both were lonely, and both were broken.

Then, one night, with the moon shining so fully and sorrowfully in the black sky, the star saw the flashing replica of his own aching soul in the painful beauty of the moonlight. So he approached, opening his bleeding heart once again as he clung to the small sliver of hope, of possibility, of healing. He slipped his lithe fingertips under the chin of the moon, raising his eyes as the hollowness filled with caution and fear, and then with intermittent flickers of hopeful wonder. Both were overcome with the other's beauty, their shared history of pain held openly in their eyes.

They stooped down together, hesitant at first, and then with an overwhelming instinct of certainty that rushed through their veins, foreign and refreshing, as they slowly picked up the jagged shards of glass that lay strewn across the bloodstained ground. The glass dug in to their trembling palms, drawing fresh blood and etching new cuts into their skin. But from this bleeding, they would be able to heal together, the unspoken words of this promise written in the interlacing shadows of the night.


End file.
